Discord
by Blaithin-mae
Summary: John generally made it a policy not to get on a first name basis with men who were going to get themselves killed. But Harry had always been special. John/Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Discord**

_**Summary: **John generally made it a point not to get on a first name basis with men who were going to get themselves killed. But Harry had always been special. John/Harry_

**R****ating: **M

**Warnings**_**:** Slash (eventually), English spelling and a pairing that probably shouldn't have ever existed.  
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**1994**

The kid was a tiny slip of a thing.

He was bird like; his bones unbelievably fragile beneath John's hands and the hunter momentarily tightened his fingers, listening to the rush of the breath that exploded from bloody lips and the painful creak of collar bones.

The necromancer's alter burnt up around them, bright against the darkness of the sky and the boy tried to rip himself away from John, ready to throw himself into the flames in order to get at the smouldering corpse that was splayed across scorched stone. Fire made crude patterns with its skin and its hair sizzled and crackled; the petrol John had poured on it made quick word of the body and left the sky a rainbow of purple hues and strips of orange.

John thought it might have been pretty if it wasn't for the smell of burning flesh.

"Don't you ever, ever do that again" he snarled and tucked the small body under his arm, barely even noticing the clawed struggle and the desperate whine as he stormed back to the Impala. The kid howled and his good arm swiped at John's face, leaving a stinging slash across his cheekbone. He was pretty sure the backhand he gave in return hurt a hell of lot more but really couldn't care much.

"Put me back, leave me alone!" The youth sobbed and, scratched weakly at the arm holding him.

John grimaced at the wetness that smeared along his limbs; he had shot the boy's arm and it was bleeding sluggishly; blood spider-webbing between demonic markings and dripping like nail vanish from his fingertips.

The kid was too weak and too broken to cause any real commotion but the angry screech he released as they drove out of sight of the burning alter caused hairs along the length of John's spin to stand up right and quiver. He glanced over his shoulder and into unnaturally brilliant eyes, seeing the memories of death and fire reflected back at him and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.

The boy flinched at his sharp gaze and drew his legs up clumsily to his chest; skinny, blood stained arms coiled around himself defensively and John wasn't even that surprised when the kid started to cry.

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--00--

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It took John nearly two weeks to get the kid to speak.

He obeyed John well enough, staying when he was told to stay, moving when he was told to move but there was a scary emptiness in him and John realised quickly that the kid wasn't normal. He was wrong and not in a supernatural way, but in an entirely human way.

Something had been broken inside of him; he was all smashed up edges and distorted emotion and the part of him that should having been fighting for life was long gone, leaving only a weary hollowness that shone so brightly through his eyes that John wished he cared enough to cry for him.

Whatever had happened to the boy had destroyed him inside and he seemed determined to destroy himself outside as well. He never slept, never ate and John could feel the panic rising as he watched the kid start to fade. There was no evil witch in those moments, just the broken remains of a child; his skin was a paper thin off white, the only hint of colour on him was the rings of purple pressed deep beneath his eyes. His bones protruded thin and razor sharp and John was sure he could count ever rib without much trouble.

It was after watching the boy, push away his food once again that John finally snapped. He couldn't take the morbid silence from the kid any longer; it felt like he was watching someone die and he had been forced to watch enough people die.

He grabbed at the boy's shoulders, his large palms curling around frail collar bones and pressed into the ridges and dips that seemed to make up his form. Green eyes snapped up to stare at him, bright with apprehensive and full of emotion that was close to hate and closer to fear.

"You will tell me your name now" John said and the emotion in the kids face softened his voice but the steel behind the words was still present and the boy knew it. It caused him to shift against his chair in agitation and stare glumly at his torn up jeans, his hands moved with nervous movement in his lap and John almost didn't expect a reply.

"Harry" the boy whispered and his voice was hoarse and surprisingly deep and John wondered if maybe the boy was older than he had assumed.

"Just Harry?" he pressed and Harry's forehead knotted, his whole body tightening and humming with suppressed energy that seemed to shine momentarily beneath the odd translucency of his flesh. He was hot beneath John's fingers. Like fire.

"Just Harry" the kid repeated and he nodded in acceptance, unwilling to push too much. John had never entirely forgotten the circumstances of their meeting. Harry may have seemed like a weak, broken child but he remembered the blood and the demon magic and the corpse that Harry had been trying to reanimate.

The boy suddenly seemed to lose the tension and confused jumble of feelings that were keeping him upright and he slumped forward, his face hidden behind a tangle of dark curls that shielded him from John's sharp gaze.

"Why are you keeping me here?" he mumbled and he was all but leaning against John's chequered shirt, the heat from his lips scorching.

John scowled and gripped the boy's face, staring into gaunt features and blank eyes. "You tried to bring back the dead, I can't let you go out and do it again"

Harry flinched away from him, hunching inwards and making himself seem if possible even smaller and more pathetic that ever. "I can't do it again" he whispered, "It was a onetime deal, now he's gone forever."

John closed his eyes and drew the boy close to him, pressing Harry's face against his stomach and holding the boy's narrow shoulders as they shook silently. Harry fisted his hands into John's shirt, gripping a little too tight for comfort as the wetness of his tears seeped through to the man's skin.

He didn't know what to say to the boy, he didn't really understand what had happened and his distaste for magic and necromancy stopped him from asking.

Lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear Harry's whisper beneath his tears.

"And it's your fault"

John pressed his fingers into dark curls and stopped himself from telling Harry he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

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--00--

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Once Harry started to talk, things got easier.

He was still like a well trained dog, obeying without question when John gave him orders but their monotonous interactions seemed to keep his desire for death at bay a little and his fear eased to a wary apprehension.

John told him about hunting in vivid, gore filled detail; at first to scare the boy and hopefully make him never touch witchcraft again and later because he didn't have much else to talk about. Harry probably knew a lot of it already; he had been trying to raise the dead, but he never interrupted and soaked up everything John said about hunting with was an odd light in his eyes that almost looked like purpose. It wasn't quite right but it was enough keep the stories coming.

He also started to sleep and John almost wished he hadn't.

Harry had screaming nightmares, nightmares that had him writhing with pain and clawing at his face until his forehead and fingers were coated in blood. He couldn't wake up and John could only watch him warily that first night, his neck prickling nervously at the odd light that seemed to shimmer and pulse across Harry's skin. It was easy to forget the odd glittering light in the morning but the memory of his cowardice stung.

The next night he didn't look at the boy at he shuffled towards him. Harry's skin felt hot and charged up with electricity as he cautiously enfolded him; the odd shimmer of Harry's flesh was easy to ignore and John closed his eyes and focused on the tiny shudders the boy made against him. At first Harry fought against the barrier of his arms, whispering his fear against John's chest and clawing at him weakly before the nightmares subsided and he laid shivering and sobbing against John, his hands like vices as he clung onto the man.

It was like watching someone nearly drown.

The nightmares continued neither of them spoke of their routine but Harry's eyes, pressed deep into his gaunt face with exhausted, were bright with thanks.

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--00--

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It was another two weeks before John took Harry to Bobby's.

Dean might have been sixteen but John was hesitant to leave him with Sammy any longer than a month. He had to go back and find his sons and he didn't want Harry anywhere near them.

John knew that men who wanted death tended to find it and in the supernatural world that meant they took those around them to the other side too. Protecting his boys would always come first and he didn't care how much the green eyed youth tugged at his heart strings, he would shoot him dead before letting him anywhere near the vicinity of his sons.

Bobby was stood on the porch of his house, his cap pulled low of his frowning brow and his dog sitting patiently in reaching distance, tail thumping against the wooden floorboards. Harry stared at the house silently, his expression completely unreadable.

"Harry, you're going to stay with Bobby for a while" John told the boy, nodding at the man in the distance. "I...." he trailed off unsure of what to say.

Harry glanced at him, unmoving apart from the slant of his green eyes, they blazed in the twilight and John was a little captivated by them for a moment, the kid was kind of stunning really. "Will you come back for me?" Harry asked quietly and John was surprised at the desperate longing in his voice.

"You want me to come back?"

Harry shrugged and seemed to fold in on himself, hiding away from his emotions and John's cold inquisition. "I don't have anybody else"

John let his hand rest on Harry's thin shoulder, wincing inwardly at the sharpness of bones beneath his fingers. "If you want I will"

Harry didn't reply or move in response but John thought he could see the hope for a moment, shinning like sunlight through the fine pale layers of his skin, for a second Harry looked like he was on fire.

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--00--

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Bobby left him a voicemail every few weeks.

Apparently Harry had come on leaps and bounds as John knew he would in Bobby's company. Bobby was like balm to the injured and the weak. He made people feel strong and he was sure Harry responded just like everyone else in the man's company. What he was surprised at however, was the fondness with which Bobby spoke of the boy.

Bobby was tapestry of old scars and scabs and consequently he kept people at arms distance; hesitant to let himself become vulnerable enough to be hurt again, he had seen too many people die and fall and loose themselves to trust easily. That he let Harry into his closed world said a lot about both of them.

John had no doubt Harry would just end up being another scar in Bobby's collection and almost felt guilty for introducing them.

He didn't go back to get Harry though.

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--00--

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**1995**

When Sammy hit twelve he snapped.

Not in a mental way, but in a rebellious teenage way that Dean had never done. Everyone said Dean was the most like him but John knew better; Sam was a mirror image of his father; he the same destructive determination and the same selfish fault that John had never really seen in his oldest. Dean despite his drinking and womanizing was a purer, simpler being; he lived only for his family and his selflessness made John love him and despise him in equal amounts.

The truth was he didn't understand Dean enough and he understood Sam too much and now that Sammy wasn't okay with sitting back and just taking orders it made their family almost constantly tense and agitated.

Sam's intelligence meant he knew how to hurt people, he knew where to prod them to get the biggest reaction. He needled at John's fatherhood, poked at his beaten up car and the lack of any permanent housing. He scoffed when John left them alone, staring with great big eyes full of condemnation and John was so close to raising his hand to kid that he had developed a tick in his eye.

Dean knew it too, he was rubbish in school but knew everything about his family, and approached John quietly, slumped up in a heavy, leather jacket that was a still a little bit loose on his broad shoulders and his eyes were oddly dark in the dim light of the motel.

"Here" he said quietly and pressed the cool handle of a loaded gun into John's hands. "Go away for a bit before you do something you regret."

John looked in to his Dean's face, taking in the high cheekbones and long, almost feminine lashes and saw Mary staring back at him.

He didn't have a reply for his son, but when he left, a bag slung over his shoulder he saw Sammy watching condemningly from behind Dean; staring at him with his mouth all twisted up in disdain and realised he probably wouldn't have regretted hitting the ignorant brat.

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--00--

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The banshee from Iowa was a bitch.

Its friend was even worse and it's was with a slash pouring blood down the entire length of his torso that John approached Bobby's junkyard. He almost wasn't surprised to see green eyes staring at him patiently from behind the crumpled body of a Ford.

"You waiting for me kid?" he asked and was surprised by the weakness of his voice; his voice box bobbled a little against the skin of his neck and Harry raised one skinny shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.

"Yes"

John decided not to ask how Harry had known he coming; asking meant he had to acknowledge the kid's unnaturalness and staring into Harry's familiar face he didn't really want to.

"You never came back for me" the boy said suddenly and John was expecting to see the same betrayal and anger that Sammy's face was constantly painted with, but instead Harry's features were blank and his eyes pale with knowledge, reminding John that Harry wasn't normal once again.

"I'm sorry" he gasped and let himself cling onto rusty metal frame behind him, unable to admit that his knees were knocking weakly and his vision was started to narrow.

Harry smiled slightly; it twisted at the redness of his lips and made his heart shaped face lob-sided and pained; he was an attractive kid even with the most ugly of emotions. "No you're not" he retorted and then slipped his shoulder beneath John's arm, wrapping his limbs around the older man. "It's okay" he added as they wobbled towards the front door and John couldn't have said if he meant it or not.

Bobby's face was dark with surprise and irritation when Harry stumbled through the front door, John slung half dead over his narrow shoulders.

"What you doing here, Winchester. I thought you had completely forgotten we were alive" Bobby's anger was a sharp disdainful light shimmering in his pale eyes and John realised that Harry may have forgiven him but only because Bobby held the grudge for him.

"Banshee" John answered shortly and the man scowled at his answer.

Bobby placed the shot full of Holy water before him, ignoring Harry's protests and told the kid to get the first aid kit as John swallowed dutifully. The boy scuttled away and the silence he left would have been unbearable if John could have seen straight.

"You're a cruel man, John Winchester" Bobby said softy, his accent heavy and curling at the vowels, "It's been almost a year, were you just gonna leave him with me forever?"

John shrugged, his tongue heavy and dry plastered against the roof of his mouth "I thought you liked him"

"We both know that's really not the point"

Harry came back and John's heart ached as he watched the boy tenderly stitch up his wound, his small pale face tight with concentration. Bobby watched him coldly over the top of Harry's dark curls and the distance between them seemed so much bigger now that they were finally face to face.

"Harry, go and set up the spare room. John will be wanting to stay for a while I presume"

John didn't have the energy to argue and looking at Harry's bright happy eyes as his proudly told John he didn't have nightmares anymore he didn't really want to.

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The week John stayed with Bobby and Harry was a bittersweet blur.

Harry worshipped him, though he couldn't say exactly why. He followed the hunter around everywhere, his silence destroyed by his excited chatter as he proudly told John about hunting and researching with Bobby. The broken little witch John had pulled from a necromancer's circle was gone replaced by a bright eyed teenager and John was grateful.

Harry's necromancy had always left a bitter taste in his mouth and he had never allowed himself to think of the boy as anything but a ticking time bomb. Seeing Harry rolling around the Bobby's old dog made the memories fade and he almost saw his own kids reflected in the kid's grinning face.

At least until he saw Harry doing magic.

Harry's room was at the top of the house, in a little attic room, protected by Bobby's most potent charms and painted with devil traps and salt soaked metal panels. Bobby may have not been able to protect Harry from himself but he was trying hard to protect him from anything else.

John had been looking for the kid and his room had seemed like a good place to start. Maybe it was because he was so used to moving silently that the kid hadn't stopped or maybe Harry hadn't realised he was meant to, but John had swung open to the door of Harry's bedroom and nearly been sick.

Harry hands were full of fire, his skin was sunlight and glitter and his eyes were unnatural in their brightness as he glanced at John. Lightning crackled along the seams of clothes, leaving little black scorch marks on the material and Harry smiled happily at him. The magic pulsated and slithered away, sinking and soaking back into Harry's flesh leaving his skin perfectly bright and ethereal and his curls ruffled around his beaming face. He looked a bit like an angel.

"Hey John, did you..."

"What are you" John interrupted, his voice sharp with fear "I told you, never again..."

"It's not necromancy" Harry interrupted and his smile dimmed even as his skin pulsated with magic. "It's magic. It's okay, it's just magic"

John knew what his face said at Harry's answer and the boy flinched away from him, his arms wrapping around himself protectively as if he expected to be struck and didn't really want to avoid it.

"It's wrong, you are wrong. It's evil." he stated coldly and Harry brilliantly bright eyes faded, washing out to a familiar nothingness.

He didn't say any more, but nothing else needed to be said. John knew he had just destroyed a year's worth of Bobby's hard work with the kid. He knew Harry was right back where he started with his memories and old betrayal and shadows of death.

His grip tightened on his steering wheel and he remembered the lightning and fire magic and wondered if it might have been for the best.

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--00--

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Bobby left him a voicemail a week later with a single sentence.

Harry had run away.

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--00--

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**End of part one. **

Reviews are much desired and will be well cared for.

The second half is almost finished and I hold in hostage in anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors notes:** A lot of you asked about the ages of the characters: Harry is 14/15 when the story the story begins. John is 40. This is immensely AU so Harry's past is not cannon and does not follow the books past the fourth.

**Warning:** sexual content ahead.

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**Chapter two **

**2000**

John had seen it coming for months, years if he was honest. Sam had been chafing against his rules since he was twelve and John wasn't all that surprised when he announced he wasn't going to continue hunting.

At seventeen Sam was already six foot two. He had out sized both John and Dean a while back, but still had the lanky unfinished quality of youth; his limbs were too long for the slenderness of his torso and the softness of face. John didn't doubt it would change soon, especially seeing the hard determined set of his youngest son's jaw.

"I'm going to college" Sam said and the pitch of his voice was all over the place, high and low and scratchy with fear. It reminded him a little of a green-eyed witch he had rescued a while back.

"Oh really?" John had asked without looking up from polishing his gun; Sam hated being ignored and so the petty part of him had been doing it for years just to irritate the boy, he was petty a lot around Sam.

A muscle in Sam's jaw spasmed and he slapped down a letter with a little too much force. John put the gun down slowly and picked up the piece of paper, eyeing the curling seal and the German motto that wrapped around the top of the page.

It was an acceptance letter.

"I've been accepted into Stanford. I'm going"

"No you're not" His words were said with a careful slowness but his anger was hot and burning through his entire body. His son was staring at him, almost spitting in anger and John knew they would resort to blows before the conversation was finished.

"I'm leaving." Sam repeated. "I'm going to do something worthwhile with my life"

"You don't think saving people if worthwhile" John scoffed and his voice was strained as Sam's shoulders shuddered a little and he made as if to attack before stopping short and quivering with tension.

"Don't act like this was about saving people!" he snarled, "It was never about anyone else but yourself. You just couldn't let mom's death go. You got so caught up in your own vengeance you never had enough room for anyone else."

That was when John did hit him. He hit him hard enough to send his sprawling across the floor and with enough anger to make him stay down. Sam looked up at him with emotion clouded eyes, a bruise blossoming purple across his face.

"Don't you ever talk about her" John hissed and his control was well and truly gone as he made to approach Sam again.

"This isn't about her, it never was" Sam retorted but his words were quiet, tinged with a little fear and John probably would have beaten him unconscious if Dean hadn't stepped between them.

Dean had been out, drinking or sleeping around when their conversation started and he glanced between them, frowning with confusion and tension and John could have laughed at his sons in that moment. Of course Sam hadn't told Dean about anything yet, Sam knew Dean wanted the best for him and knew his brother wouldn't put up that much of a struggle if he wanted to leave, even if it did cut Dean up inside. It was unfair how unbalanced their relationship was, John thought suddenly and wondered if Sam even noticed through the haze of his resentment.

Dean's eyes widened with alarm as he faced his father, but his features was hard and John didn't know if he would be able to take on his son when he was protecting his younger brother. "Dad" he said quietly and John glanced once at Sam's bowed head before spinning on his heel and storming out the motel.

He could hear his boys angry whispering as he strode towards the impala.

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--0--

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He had been travelling maybe two weeks before he finally hit the road house.

Maybe John had avoided it for so long because he knew what he would find there. Ever since Harry had left Bobby's, there had been rumours of a crazy, almost suicidal hunter who hung around near Ellen's. Maybe it was because they were only rumours that he took so long getting there.

Whatever the reason, John recognised him as soon as he walked in the bar.

He was older, slightly taller though that wasn't saying much and still as bird boned and skinny as ever. He was leaning against the pool table, clad in too tight jeans and stretched out languidly in a way that was meant to attract attention, in a way that told John he wasn't a kid anymore.

His hair was too long and his eyes too bright and he looked desperately out of place amongst the lumbering old men and muscular bodies around him.

"Harry" the other man playing pool beckoned and Harry grinned at him with a smile that was all teeth and empty emotion. He padded around the table, moving with an odd careless grace that was nothing like a hunters' walk should be. Hunters moved with purpose and caution, Harry had none of that and as John caught sight of those brilliantly bright empty eyes he understood why.

John stared only a second before his heart gave an odd little clench and he slinked away towards the front the door and back to his car.

One glance had been more than enough; he already knew everything he had been wondering about for the past five years.

John didn't associate with witches and he most definitely didn't associate with men who were going to get themselves killed.

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--0--

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**2000**

John spent most of his time on the road that year.

He told himself it was because he couldn't stay in Sam's presence for more than a day before they resorted to beating the crap out of each other. Instead he went hunting alone and swung by whatever crappy motel they were staying just to make sure they were alive and had enough money.

He could have taken Dean with him; but didn't. He didn't even ask him because he didn't think Dean would leave Sam until Sam left first. John had trained the kid too well in some respects; Dean was still firmly in the role of protective big brother and he hadn't yet realised Sam was grown up and probably didn't want to be protected. John told himself, he hadn't taken Dean with him because his son needed Sam more than he needed a dad.

It was only half a lie.

John had taken to hunting; but near the roadhouse, waiting till he caught glimpses of Harry's painful slender form sauntering in and out of the bar before he roared off onto his next demon. John never approached him and he didn't really want to, knowing that it would be a destructive relationship, but he was still compelled to watch, unable to look away. The dead eyed witch child was still there reflected in Harry's empty smiles and desperate eyes and John despite his coldness felt his chest tighten every now and again in sudden unexpected guilt as the boy tried to get himself killed.

And he tried hard; he was a cocky little shit by all accounts, full of recklessness that might have looked liked confidence to anyone who hadn't had to drag him away from a burning alter. Harry flung himself into battles he shouldn't have survived; hunting almost constantly until he was too tired or battered up to keep going.

The youth was a regular at Ellen's bar but only because he didn't have the patience to research his own demons, he just took the ones that no one else wanted. He scared everyone a bit John realised, and just like him, they were all a bit relieved when Harry came, bloody and limping through the front door of the roadhouse, battered but alive.

John wasn't even sure why he kept watching.

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--0--

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**2001**

Just before Sam left, John gave Dean the impala.

John told Sam not to come back if he left and Dean had tears in his eyes when his brother finally stormed out. Sam packed everything he owned into a single suitcase and battered cardboard box that night and John wasn't even angry when Dean offered to drive him to California.

Dean fingered the Impala's car keys and probably understood Sam and John far better than either of them understood themselves.

The roadhouse wasn't far and John was already half drunk when he stumbled in through the front door. Ellen stared at him hard eyed from behind the bar and her pretty little daughter served him, her smiles still bright with innocence and oblivious to her mother's pained distaste.

John slumped up against the bar and wondered drunkenly if everyone hated him.

"No not everyone; after all, not everyone has met you."

John flinched as Harry's great big emerald eyes bore into the back of neck. "hmmm.." he slurred and nearly fell off the stool trying to face the youth properly. Harry didn't help him but quirked an eyebrow in cruel amusement.

"You read minds?" John snapped suddenly with realisation and scowled as the youth rolled his eyes and folded his arms at John's expression. He was painful attractive even illuminated by exasperation and the dim lights of the bar.

"You're basically shouting your thoughts at me" Harry said lightly and slid with that odd cat like grace onto the stool next to him. His was familiar but different; his delicate bones seemed sharper and stronger and his face was longer, his jaw-line more defined and his cheekbones high above the pouting fullness of his lips. He was still Harry but older, grown up, more enticing.

"How old are you?" John asked suddenly and Harry glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Twenty one" Harry answered slowly and then the red smear of his mouth curled sharply, exposing a dangerous row of glittering teeth and old betrayal. "About the same as your sons I suppose"

John flinched again.

"You never told me you had sons" Harry said softly and the hurt from Sam's departure was still too new for John to have the conversation he knew was coming and couldn't help himself as he swung at Harry's pale, delicately built face.

Harry relaxed almost gleefully into the punch and John felt thin skin rip beneath his fingers as the youth fell, lightly to the floor, his hands cushioning his fall.

"Winchester!"

Ellen gave him a slap that made him want to vomit and when the drunken dizziness had passed John was aware of the protective hostility emanating from the members of the bar. He frowned at the anger being directed towards him and realised that he wasn't known here and if he was it wasn't with any fondness. Harry on the other hand was a regular and well thought of; he was a darling of fragile beauty and smirking charisma and John knew how easy it was to like the kid.

John swallowed and looked at Harry's pale face, the cut across his cheek was small but he was sure he could already see the faint glow of the kid's magic as it started to stitch him back together. He wondered what they would all think if they knew what the youth was.

Harry suddenly moved forward, gently pushing Ellen out the way. "I provoked him, it's my fault"

Ellen snorted "I doubt it somehow" she hissed and John was captivated by them as Harry smiled winningly at her and the woman patted him fondly, he wondered if she could see the hollow depth of Harry's eyes as well.

"Come on, John" Harry said suddenly and his hand was outstretched beseechingly. His fingers were thin and small and built like a woman's and John flinched away from them.

"Please" Harry added and John sighed and stood up, unwilling to touch him but following the youth as he led him out of the roadhouse.

The cold air was bitter and the darkness of the night pressed against him until all he could see was the eerie glow that emanated from Harry's bottle green eyes. John was mesmerized by them and wondered faintly if they were naturally like that or if his magic made them so bright.

"I don't like magic" he echoed his own thoughts and Harry nodded in understanding, hunching against the cold and John's bluntness.

"I know"

"I also don't like people who want to get themselves killed"

"I know that too" Harry said faintly and John glanced at him sharply wondering at the extent of damage he had caused.

"Harry..." He struggled with the words, sudden unexpected guilt choking his apology.

Harry cautiously reached out to him and his hands were hot and thrumming with electricity against John's shoulder. "I know" he repeated, "You've been watching me all year, I guessed you can't hate me that much"

"That or I was planning or killing you" John retorted and Harry laughed at him with a cocky slant of a smile, his cool eyes like emeralds.

"You couldn't kill me anymore, John" he said, skin glowing with magic and John believed him.

-

--0--

-

Hunting with Dean was easy.

His eldest was still willing to take orders without question, he wasn't good at research but he did it without complaint and he enjoyed hunting. Dean enjoyed the kill and enjoyed knowing he was stopping something evil from hurting other people, he was despite pretenses a man who was unwavering good.

John wondered sometimes what he would think of Harry.

He never introduced them, Harry was too reckless and too much of a curiosity for that. John wasn't sure what would happen if they met but he doubted it would end well; Harry still ran after death and it was only because of the strength of his innate magic that he had caught it yet.

John wished he didn't care, wished he could just ignore the boy and never see him again but once they had started to talk he couldn't stop. As a child Harry had captured him with his youth and his fragility and now as an adult he beguiled him. There wasn't much weakness in him anymore no matter how he much his tiny form suggested otherwise, but he was as equally as captivating.

John wasn't sure exactly what it was; Harry all was broken up and empty inside and his smiles were devoid of any thing real, but he was still fascinating. The charisma poured off him and his cocky, careless confidence drew John into Harry's little world of adventure and hunting and drinking.

And fucking,

Harry had become a creature of base pleasures, he didn't care much for life and his lack of emotion stopped him for wanting things that weren't physical. He wanted to live but not for very long and consequently revelled in those activities that promised quick release and self destruction.

John was only slightly surprised when he realised Harry fucked men.

He was even less surprised when he realised he wanted to fuck Harry.

-

--0--

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**2002**

Bobby hadn't spoken to him in years.

The memory of Harry was still too painful between them and it was only because Dean had gone there first that John ended up in the man's junkyard, staring at the ramshackle old house and the lumbering form of Dean's impala.

Dean took a lot better care of the car than he ever had and it shone happily in the South Dakota sunrise.

When he knocked on the door he expected more from Bobby than the fist than shot out to the centre of his face.

"I'd do more but I don't want your boy to have to wipe up the bloody remains of his father" Bobby hissed and gave a sharp motion of his head to indicate that John should follow him

John was too tired to argue and irritated tension laced up through his shoulders as he did as directed, following Bobby's stomping trail until they ended up far enough away from the house that their shouting wouldn't alert anyone inside.

"I'm talking to Harry again" John said suddenly, cutting off Bobby before he could begin his lecture.

Bobby aimed another punch at his face and John only just managed to block it, he hadn't been expecting that one. He had thought to calm Bobby's old anger but instead the hunter was almost thrumming with rage.

The man shook his head at him and his mouth folded up into a thin line of anger. "Couldn't you have just left him alone? Haven't you done enough damage?"

John frowned, anger rising at the man's words. He was pretty sure that Harry didn't need anyone to help him damage himself and when he told the man as much Bobby actually landed a hit in his face.

"You know he hasn't spoken to me since he left" he snarled at John's fuming face. "All he does is hunt and drink and it's you that did that. You told him he was evil and unnatural and now he won't let himself get close to people, he doesn't think he's worth it."

The longing in Bobby's eyes was only just sharper than his anger but it was enough.

"You're jealous of me." John snapped and Bobby just laughed, his eyes washed of colour and hollowed out in a scary reflection of Harry's.

"You're an idiot John Winchester" he said hoarsely, "You can't see anything but yourself, I only hope Harry has other people looking out for him because you'll destroy him"

John punched back then and stormed off wondering how Bobby couldn't see that Harry was set on destroying himself and didn't need anyone to help.

-

--00--

-

"John?"

Harry's eyes had been made liquid by the sambuca and the soft bar lighting and he wobbled slightly on the bar stool.

John sighed already knowing what was coming and wondering what his answer was going to be but not with any real conviction.

Harry slipped off the bar stool and peered up at the hunter's from under the dark fan of his eyelashes. The alcohol and the darkness made his eyes look like Mary's.

"John" he asked again and hesitantly reached out for the older man, his finger stroking the cracked leather of his coat.

John knocked back his whiskey and stared back at the boy; taking in his bright eyes and his dark curls and the fluttering hollow between his collarbones. "Okay"

Less than half an hour later John had the boy spread out beneath him, thin arms coiled up around his neck and legs draped slender and quivering across the bones of his hips. He hadn't known what he was doing but it hadn't seemed to bother Harry, and John was too drunk to really notice that the boy was a boy and instead let his eyes close as he focused on the heat surrounding his cock and the little muffled groans that were being pressed into his skin.

He groaned in release and stared into Harry's pale perfect face, watching the small pained echoes of emotion that flickered like flames behind his eyes. His lips were swollen red and his hair was a halo of colour around his delicate features and John kind of hated Harry more in that moment than he ever had before.

He left before Harry woke up, trying not to remember just how old the kid was and couldn't go back to Dean when he realised how young his son was.

-

--0--

-

He didn't see Harry for going on two months after they slept together and when they finally met up again he already knew it was a mistake.

The boy stared at his ragged form from the doorway of his hotel and there was a pause of desperate judgmental silence between them. Harry's eyes were cold and thoughtful and John almost expected to be turned away and later kind of wished he had of been.

Instead Harry suddenly moved forward and pressed himself into John's chest, the top of his head barely scrapping John's chin and his body narrow enough to completely hide in his barrel chest. Both of them pretend not to notice Harry's tears but he couldn't ignore the little angry voice that rattled through the kid.

"I thought you hated me again"

John hooked his fingers under the youth's chin and tried to burn his own confused jumble of feelings and emotions directly into Harry's eyes, unable to find the words to do it any other way. Harry quivered in his hands and for a moment it was almost enough.

Their mouths were punishing and full of teeth when they meet and Harry was so small that John was able to pick him up with one hand and lock the door behind them with the other. Harry was as open and desperate for him as before and he whined and gasped perfectly; his big shattered eyes understanding as John left purple bruises blossoming across the thin skin of his hips and bit at his lips until they were swollen and raw.

He wasn't sure which of them hated it more, but it was John that felt tears; hot and wet behind his eyes as he stared at Harry's sprawled out naked body; his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat and the glittery light of his magic. Between the bird bones of Harry's shoulder blades was a delicate mass of old scar tissue that travelled like white laces between the stuck out vertebae, and Harry tensed as John eyes examined him, his eyes cold and his tongue unwilling to voice his questions.

"Please," Harry whispered and for a moment he was the scared, broken little witch child that had screaming nightmares and cried into John's chequered shirt as he told him his name.

It was only Harry's vice like grip on his wrist that kept him from leaving.

John folded the skinny little body against his own and ran his fingers up the protruding trail of Harry's spine and wondered what he had gotten himself into.

Harry big glass eyes echoed the sentiment.

-

--0--

-

He stayed with Harry for a month

They fought just as often as they fucked; Harry was a vicious little bastard when he wanted to be. Any fear he had of John from his childhood was gone and he was full of opinions and ignorance and desperation. They were probably entirely incompatible and John wasn't all that comfortable with him or their relationship. He was also not comfortable with the magic, in fact he hated it.

He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the truly evil things out there; the demons and the vampires and the banshees but Harry used it so much. He used it unconsciously; his emotions were easier to recognise based on his magic than the blank, empty expressions of his face and anger seemed to set him off especially spectacularly.

It meant their fights always ended badly; John felt his tongue wither up in his mouth when he saw the sparks of lightning dance through Harry's hair and he usually ended up storming away from the witch; full of plans to leave and head off down the highway without a backwards glance. He never did, but they were only reconciled after John had Harry moaning beneath him; his skin a rainbow tapestry of penance and crying out promises never to use magic again.

He didn't mean it, but for a moment John felt like he had some control over their relationship and that was enough for him to stay.

For a while anyway.

-

--00--

-

"Will you get into bed"

John's voice was irritated and exhausted as he snapped into the darkness of the motel room. Harry glanced at him over the sharp line of his shoulder and his green eyes were bright with emotion that John didn't understand but probably should.

"I can't sleep" Harry said finally and his voice was soft and hesitant and John was reminded uncomfortably of the small child that had refused to sleep because of the monsters in his dreams.

"Do you still... Dream" he asked hesitantly and Harry's answering expression was sharp with teeth and the butter-knife bones of his face pulled at his skin painfully.

"Everyone dreams" he said softly and rose to his feet, dressed only in one of John shirts. It hung off his slender body the same way it would have a woman; hanging large on his shoulders and scraping at slender thighs. John didn't think he would have been able to touch the boy if he had been more masculine, his fragility could be mistaken for femininity and John was happy to mistake it.

Harry knelt at the edge of the bed, his eyes luminous and liquid soft as he reached out to John and John let him.

The sex was slow that night, not quite love-making but probably about as close as either of them could get. Harry's thin fingers were burning against the skin of his shoulders and his moans sounded a little like sobs. John held him tight, closing his eyes against the light that poured from Harry's flesh, it washed over him and stroked at their bodies lovingly; hot and full of electrify.

Harry pressed his face into the junction between John neck and shoulders and his lips moved frantically with unvoiced words. John pretended not to understand what the boy wanted but later when Harry curled up and whimpering against the demons of his mind he held him and pressed kisses against the swollen scar on his forehead and whispered his answer.

"I won't leave"

They both knew a lie.

-

--0--

-

They lasted longer than John thought they would; he was despite his fear of Harry's magic a little besotted by the boy and Harry must have seen something in John as well because John was under no illusions of the pleasantness of his own company. It was the hunting that eventually tore them apart; not what John had expected, which was probably why they were both so unprepared for the results.

They hadn't hunted since they first got to together, John was too preoccupied by the positions he could bend the green eyed youth into and Harry had even less patience for research that Dean, so their metaphorical stakes were left hung up and cooling for a while.

They probably would have lasted even longer if the vampires hadn't found them.

The blood-suckers attacked them while they slept; salt didn't deter them and they slinked as quiet as cats into their motel bedroom, waking John up with their snarling laughter and staring down at them as they surrounded his bed.

"Shit" he cursed; his voice was hoarse with the morbid knowledge of his own impending death.

"That's him, the hunter that attacked us" one of the vampires gestured and John flinched, only to realise it wasn't him but the curled up form beside him that the demons were focused on. Automatically he reached out for Harry, pulling the small body towards his chest protectively.

The vampires laughed at him and with inhuman strength tore the two men away from one and other, one holding John against the stained carpet with a single iron fingered hand as he watched Harry get thrown around like a rag doll between the rest of them. Harry's awoke with a pained cry and John snarled his curses as he saw the boy being forced to his knees, his naked body glimmering silvery in the darkness and his head wrenched to the side as they offered up his neck.

"Let him go!" he cried and Harry's startled green eyes met his for a moment. Instead of the fear John expected to see the only emotion he recognised was regret.

He understood it better later.

Harry's body started burning.

Fire literally consumed him head to toe, slithering along his limbs and dancing through his tangle of dark curls until the only thing John was familiar with was the glowing of his emerald eyes. The vampires that held him leapt away in pain and started at the boy in shock.

"Come near me again and I'll flay the skin from your bodies" Harry hissed and his magic made his voice boom around the room, shattering the glass windows until they fell like glitter and snowflakes around his bare feet. The vampires clutched at their ears in pain and scrambled away from the burning boy.

By the time they had left John was already throwing his clothes on.

"John..." harry reached out for him, his magic still sparkling like diamonds across his skin and his hair was full of flickering lightning. John pulled away from him, overridden with fear and anger. He was scared of Harry's power, scared of how carelessly he threw it around and angry that he could. It felt like cheating and John needed the rules of hunting, needed there to be limitations and easy answers and Harry was anything but an easy answer.

"John, please,"

John suddenly spun around and grabbed at Harry's shoulders; his anger momentarily overriding his fear. "I can't, not with you"

Harry flinched away from him and John expected the hollow emptiness to overwhelm his eyes but saw only grief. "I am what I am" Harry said softly "I can't change for you"

John shook his head "I know, but neither can I."

Harry searched his features desperately, tears threatening to spill down his face and panic humming through ever tense line of his body. "Now what do I do?" he asked hoarsely, demanding an answer John didn't really have.

John almost told him to be happy but wasn't sure the youth even knew how, instead he captured Harry's face between the calloused skin of his palms and brushed away at the wetness that was slid into his fingers.

"Live"

There wasn't really any need to expand on his single word answer; they both knew what he meant.

John left Harry wrapped up in the glass covered sheets; his narrow shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion and his eyes bright with something that John understood only partly.

The door slipped closed behind him, and John made his way back to his car with the painful knowledge that his and Harry's lives were no longer entwined.

-

--0--

-

**2003**

Dean was nearly twenty five when John left for Jericho.

He didn't say goodbye, saying goodbye meant he might not be coming back and John always came back.

Eventually anyway.

* * *

_I was blown away by the response to this, thank you very much for all the favourites and reviews.  
__The epilogue is on its way and will be up on boxing day._

_Reviews are always appreciated. __Have a merry christmas_

_**Edit;** Made Sam say Mum for a moment there. Just as British spelling should be used for British characters, American should be used for American characters. _


	3. Epilogue

**_Warning:_** _Final pa__rt and a plot twist that is going to make you all hate me. Enjoy_.

* * *

**Epilogue**

**2005**

Harry smiled.

It was a smile of sharp teeth and old rage that curled at the dark smear of his mouth and twisted at the paper thin edges of his face.

The man before him frowned, eyebrows knotting slightly with something that Harry might have considered worry if he thought the being capable of feeling anything. For a moment Harry was sure he could hear the faint flutter of wings.

He was getting sick of that noise.

"Why do you make that expression, Harry?" perplexity radiating from every smooth, blank plane of the man's face and his blue eyes were full of stars and sunlight, utterly unable to read the history of emotions that flickered across Harry's features.

Harry couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that erupted from his lungs and swung his shotgun across the narrow ledge of his shoulders, relishing the feel of cold metal against the back of his neck. "You know demons understand emotion better than your-lot" he scoffed and wasn't sure if his words were laced with pity or anger.

The man frowned once again, "I do not think that, is relevant to our conversation"

"This isn't a conversation, Castiel. It's blackmail"

The Angel blinked blankly and Harry almost laughed again as he realised that the two concepts were interchange in the celestial being's eyes. He didn't laugh; the sound got caught like razors against the back of his throat as the angel's voice filled the room.

"This is a choice, you can still stay no"

"I've already said no"

Castiel's eyes were shinning with conviction and faith and Harry could all but see the angel's power through the shell of his host's body as he spoke. "We believe you will change your mind."

Harry didn't both to correct him, recognising the futility in it, but let his shotgun fall limply from its position at the back of his neck, grimacing as it scrapped the floor in a whine of metal. His hands were hot and full of static as his magic bubbled and sparked at his fingertips and he struggled to control the wildness of his power and the memories that came with it.

His mind was full of blank spaces and suppressed nightmares but Harry still had flashes of memories about his time spent with Voldermort; images of his friends' murdered bodies and the echoes of insane laughter. His magic had never been the same since; it hummed warily through his body, constantly expecting pain and ready to defend him. He could feel it pressing against the inside of his skin till his nerves were tender and hypersensitive.

He had been in a state of agitation for years and Castiel's unexpected visits were not helping.

"Harry" Castiel interrupted, his face was carefully blank and there was only barest understanding in his eyes, "You must help us, the war approaches and I need your power"

"Castiel, I'm tired," Harry said shortly and it should have been enough because it was the truth. He was exhausted; tired of pain and blood and fighting and he already knew it wouldn't matter, it never did. Harry had been a pawn for years and he knew it wasn't about to stop anytime soon.

"Your nightmares tire you. I can stop them."

Harry blinked at the angel, his lips curling only slightly in amusement; he couldn't have said if Castiel really cared, he wasn't sure if the angel really understood enough to care, but it seemed a nice enough offer. Harry had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone care about his sleeping patterns.

"That's not what I meant" Harry sighed at the look of patience that smoothed the angel's face and gestured angrily. "Leave Castiel, I don't want to help. I'm finished, I'm sick of being other people's puppets. There is nothing out there for me to fight for anymore"

Castiel seemed to hesitate suddenly. It wasn't something Harry had ever seen the Angel do. Angels were nothing if not full of endless conviction and seeing him flicker with uncertainty made his stomach clench and his magic thrum against the back of his eyeballs nervously.

"John Winchester is dead"

Harry felt his magic wilt and his heart stop and for a moment all he could do was stare stupidly into Castiel's almost sympathetic eyes. "You killed him for this?" he questioned and his breath was nonexistent as he waited for an answer, hating the heavenly beings more than he had thought possible.

Castiel shook his head slightly, "No, he sold his soul to save his son's life. He is in hell"

Harry winced and his arms came almost instinctively to wrap around his torso, trying to hold the magic and coursing emotion inside his body. He wasn't sure what he was scared of most but he was uncertain of both and they were both threatening to rip him to shreds.

"Bring him back" he whispered and his voice broke at the look of emotion that swept across Castiel's face; it was full of darkness and Harry flinched away from the Angel's heaven lit eyes.

"Harry."

"I know" he snapped and shuddered at the tone of his voice, folding into himself miserably, understanding how blatantly he was being manipulated and knowing he would do it again in a heartbeat if only to stop the pain that tore at his insides.

His pain was full of desperation and anger and he wasn't sure if it was directed at himself, the angels or John. His relationship with the older man had been a complicated one and even at the best of times there had always been discord between them, they had always been unable to understand or accept the other. If they had loved it had been a bitter, tainted and twisted love. Their relationship had been full of need rather than want, at least on his behalf anyway.

John seemed to have found it so easy to throw Harry away and he hated the man for that, hated him for his callousness and prejudice and for the fact that he couldn't do the same; his heart felt like it was breaking a little and that was worse than any damage the man had inflicted directly.

"I'll do what you ask." He continued. "Just please bring him back"

Castiel nodded in easy acceptance but there was a question in his eyes and he stared at Harry's face for a moment trying to find an answer. "Harry, I can bring John Winchester back from hell but I cannot make him accept you, I cannot change him."

Harry smiled at the angel and it was smile of broken hearts and pity. "You don't understand humans at all, do you?"

Castiel slowly reached out and touched Harry's forehead, his fingertips cool against his scar and tingling with magic. "I do not. But I don't think humans understand themselves very well either"

Harry didn't have the heart to smile back at him and shivered against the cooling air, trying to ignore the panicked flutter of his magic as it sparked through his hair, lightning dancing in his dark curls. "How do we do this?"

Castiel's eyes were sunlight and magic, burning through the pale shimmer of his vessel's irises. "Invite me in"

Harry hesitated for a moment, "Will I know what is happening? Will I still be me?" he searched Castiel's passive, calm features helpless and felt the prickle of tears and the answer he saw reflected back. "Why me, Castiel, you already have a vessel?"

The angel's answering smile was full of calm magnificence and Harry flinched at its brightness. "You are special. The Lord has chosen you for me"

Harry shuddered and swallowed nervously; staring into ethereal eyes wearily and half hoping that he wouldn't feel and be anymore. "Okay. Castiel I invite you in. I will be your vessel"

Harry barely had time to notice Castiel's blue eyed vessel crumble weakly to the floor before his body was swallowed with light. It engulfed him in welcoming, singing heat until his soul shuddered and fell into sweet oblivion, cradled by the purity of Castiel's spirit.

Harry green eyes were sunlight and stars and it was Castiel that walked away.

The sound of feathers unnoticed.

* * *

_**Authors notes**: This takes place before the end of the supernatural's second season. The vessel Castiel is in is not Jimmy. _

_Anyway thank you for the wonderful response to this; my Inbox is flooded, it's lovely. Reviews are always appreciated, tell me what you thought, what you liked and how much I annoyed you with the ending, and am I correct in thinking this is the first John/Harry fic out there?_

_Discord was meant just as a drabble but plot bunnies attacked, hence the epilogue. If anyone would be interested in a sequel please say so, it would __deal with the Wnchester boys meeting Castiel in Harry's body._

_End._

_N/A- SEQUEL NOW POSTED_


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